Liquid Limbo
by Roaming Spirit
Summary: Losing your life is not the worst thing that can happen. The worst thing is to lose your reason for living [Book 3 Spoilers]


**A/N: **As you all know, the LoK fandom seems to be in a state of grieving for our beloved Avatar. I am no exception. So without further ado, please enjoy the result of my feels.

**Suggestion**: Listen to Pieces by Red quietly in the background._  
_

**Disclaimer**: I do not own LoK nor the characters, simply the plot. I do not own some of the quotes I've used as they belong to their respective Tumblr owners and other online sources.

Reviews are always welcomed!

* * *

_`~.~`_

_They say Limbo is a place for the dead. _

_A place where souls go when they've lost their path. Stuck between the real and the metaphysical world, present and non-present at the same time._

_They say Limbo is a place for the forgotten. _

_Oh, but it's not so tragic, really. To be forgotten by those you once knew, it hurts, but the feeling passes, because you've come to accept it. Nothing lasts forever after all. _

_No, you see, the tragedy occurs when you forget yourself. _

_When you lose track of time and start to question if there was any to begin with. When you can't tell if you've transcended from the physical world into the spiritual, or perhaps, neither. Perhaps, both. When you can't tell if you were a real being who once lived or just happened to appear in this realm. Because when the soul is still attached to the mind, the past and present and future all mesh into a single time-frame with no particular order, eliciting questions. Questions that have never been answered and never will be. And that is the greatest torment of all. We are driven to search for solutions and explanations because there is security there, a safety. Time spent in the unknown, in Limbo, is uncertainty and fear. _

_And it can drive you mad._

_They say Limbo is a place for the dead, because those who have experienced it in life are barely considered as part of the living._

* * *

_I'm never enough. I get that._

_`~.~`_

She tried. She really tried. But even then, it was just too much too soon. When she spoke, it took her a few moments to realize that the monotone rasp in the air was now her voice. On the extremely rare occasion that she felt she could lift the corners of her mouth, it was a broken attempt at a smile and left her feeling like dead-weight. The jovial light that once danced across her eyes was gone, in its stead was a look akin to a ghost who had grown tired of haunting.

During the celebration, everyone around her was in high spirits. After all, the Air Nation seemed to be well on its way to greatness and Jinora's Air Mastery and Tattoo Ceremony only emphasized that reality. But while everyone congratulated the young Airbending Master and laughed and clinked their drinks in good cheer, Korra stayed in the background to watch. It wasn't that she wasn't happy for the young girl, but conversing with others meant that she had to put up a front. Pretend that she was doing well, recovering. It meant suffocating under pitying glances and hushed whispers but acting like the lack of oxygen was a comforting feeling.

Her body had long since forgotten the sharp excruciating pains that resulted from her perilous battle with Zaheer. Those fade with time and are easy to forget. But the past two weeks have been spent growing accustomed to the new dull ache that nestles itself in her chest and spreads in small bursts throughout the rest of her being, leaving her choked up with its metallic taste on her tongue. To say that it hurt to live would have been an understatement. And so she tried to find reprieve in the closest state to death; sleep. But even that proved to be a hell in and of itself.

Countless nights Korra had jolted awake in bed, soaked in a cold sweat while puffing haggard breaths as she tried to calm her racing pulse. She would try multiple times to fall back into slumber, to ignore the demons that infested her mind, the menacing, bloodthirsty voices that bounced and echoed and crammed into her brain when she did. And each night would end exactly the same, with Korra quite literally _pulling_ her knees closely to her chest, eyes flitting around frantically at every creak or shadow that was and wasn't there and a hand clamped firmly over her mouth for fear that the sound of her breathing would stir something in the pitch of her room. She would stay like this, curled tightly into herself until the first rays of sunlight peeked into her room and Asami came in with gentle smiles and soft words to help her get ready for the day. She never once commented on the hysterical look in Korra's eyes or the dried blood on Korra's palms and the tips of her nails.

Only smiles and soft words.

Smiles and soft words.

Smiles and words.

Words.

Snarling and spitting words.

Flashes of blood coated teeth grinning and whispering those words. And a cracked mask with blood oozing from the fissures. And long dreads wrapped around. _Choking_. _Stifling. Squeezing…_

Korra came to with a strangled gasp. Her chest heaved as she frantically scanned the room around her. Golden walls. Yellow lanterns. Blue and gold banners. The soft murmur of light chatter. People in red and yellow robes milling about, laughing. Not snarling. No mask. No dreads. No blood.

_I must've dosed off again._

She couldn't do this. She was beyond exhausted and _oh so tired _of pretending. She needed to get away. She needed to be alone.

The celebration was still in full swing by the time Korra decided to wheel herself out and towards her room.

But something caught her eye.

To her left was a table crowded in a variety of drinks reserved for the older members who were present, some more potent than others. The glass glinted in the light, a shine which Korra took as a promising sign. It only took her a minute to decide which course of action she wanted to take. It only took a few seconds to surreptitiously snag three bottles before disappearing outside.

It only took a moment for a heart that belonged to a pair of mint green eyes to seize in fear.

* * *

_Don't try to solve serious matters in the middle of the night_

_`~.~`_

This was wonderful. This was heaven. This was…it had been so long she had forgotten what it felt like. But this was _pure bliss_. Of course, in her drunken state of mind, her judgment was most definitely off-kilter, but compared to the constant torment and suffering that was sobriety, this should might as well be called _peace_.

Korra had managed to haul herself from her chair and onto the bed, lying face up and just staring blankly at the bleak ceiling above her. She carefully unscrewed the cap of the second container she managed to grab, slightly smaller than her forearm, and sat up to sniff it. The scent was faint but acrid all the same. She squeezed her eyes shut and hastily tilted the bottle to her lips.

The first swallow of the clear liquid left her throat burning and her eyes watering, but her mind was pleasantly buzzed. She found that as she drank a few more swigs, the voices in her head began to shush and the quivering shadows that always seemed to elude her peripheral vision blurred until they no longer existed. When she drank the last drop from the bottle, the dull ache inside her chest dissipated and was replaced by a _sweet_, _sand-heavy __**numbness**_.

Korra had been prepared. She had been prepared to die if it meant defeating the Red Lotus. Once she accepted the fact that the likelihood of her survival was zero to none, it was easy to pour all of her being into defeating Zaheer and his revolutionists. Death did not scare her in that moment.

Korra had not been prepared for the second chance she was given. And in some ways, she thought it worse than death. At least in death, she would no longer have to _feel_. Everything was temporary relative to death— joy, sorrow, regret, all of it. But relative to living, it all dragged on indefinitely. This fractured and broken existence would remain until an unforeseeable future. And while her body was recuperating, it was destroying her mind, eating away at her from the inside out, not knowing when or _if _she could ever live like she used to again. Seeing herself, seeing pieces of who she once was and not knowing where to look in order to find the rest, it hurt and scared her more tha—

She grit her teeth and threw back the remaining half of the third bottle, chugging it down greedily until she coughed and spluttered her throat raw.

Her mind quieted once again and she sighed as she fell back against her pillow. She was weary and tired and felt…_nothing_. Absolute, wonderful _nothing. _Her eyes drifted closed.

The bottle slipped from her fingers and clattered onto the floor.

* * *

_The worst part about anything that's self-destructive is that it's so intimate. You become so close with your addictions and illnesses that leaving them behind is like killing the part of yourself that taught you how to survive._

_`~.~`_

It began as nothing more than a nightly comfort. Every couple of nights when Korra jolted awake, her hand would instinctively reach down under her bed and pull out the flask of liquor she kept there. Trembling hands would unscrew the cap and equally trembling lips would welcome the soothing burn that pacified her nerves and lulled her heart from its frantic thrashing against her rib cage.

It continued to become a nightly routine. Korra told herself that it was in case the nightmares came back, a preemptive. She began to drink every night before bed, one glass quickly becoming two, then five, then ten, completely unaware of the self-harm she was inflicting upon herself, too caught up in that familiar numbness that took over.

It ended up a vicious, timeless cycle.

Korra found herself in her room on a windy evening. The sun cast the sky in a burst of yellows, oranges, and reds, its rays illuminating half of her room through the open window. After hours of people trying to engage with her, both parties resigned themselves to the fact that it wasn't going to happen. So she decided to turn to the only companion with whom she could fully participate with; solitude.

Regrettably, her thoughts chose to tag along.

She could always try again, they told her. It had been a while since the last time she had tried so why not now? Her strength had to have returned by now, right? What was the harm?

Korra steeled her resolve, hands in a vice like grip on the armrests of her wheelchair. She concentrated, putting all of her focus on trying to feel the unused muscles in her legs. With every minuscule amount of pressure she was able to put on them, her hopes soared. Sweat formed along her brow and her breaths came in pants by the time she managed to lift herself from the seat. But the minute she tried to stand properly, her knees buckled and she was sent crashing to the floor.

She sat up blinking in confusion, as if unsure of how she had ended up on the floor in the first place. Her eyes began to burn.

She cried out in frustration, slamming her fist so hard into the wood below her that it splintered and left her hand a scratched, bloody mess. She was about to do so again when she saw a familiar glint from her peripheral vision. Within seconds she had the metal flask in her bloody hand, hardly noticing the throbbing appendage when she gripped it hard enough to turn her knuckles white. She threw her head back, downed the whole thing in one go, wiped her mouth with the back of her other hand, and settled for lying on the floor for the better part of five or so hours.

And just like that, she grew accustomed, _dependent_ on the numbing liquid, so much so that she found herself sweating with anxiety, fingers twitching until she could feel that cold steel of heaven within her palms. She became irritable, snapping at anyone and everyone for the smallest of blunders. Most chalked it up to her frustration. Others breathed a sigh of relief, thinking that she would soon be back to her usual fiery nature. No one ever took note of the unsettling look in ocean blue orbs, of the very faint but present bitter scent that hung in the air around her. Her eyes were constantly glazed over during the day, hands constantly fumbling with a cap when she thought no one was looking.

But those green eyes have been watching.

Asami knew something was wrong. At first she wanted to believe that Korra was getting better, if the lack of screams in the middle of the night were anything to go by. Because if she could convince herself of that, then she wouldn't have to take into consideration the other possibility as to why the Avatar was silent. Unfortunately, she wasn't blind. Considering that she spent the most time out of anyone with the Watertribe girl, she had a fair idea as to what Korra must be doing in the quiet hours of the night and unsuspecting moments during the day. She had caught the faint traces of alcohol on her clothes when she went to wake the bender up. She had seen the telltale tremors that passed through the Watertribe girl's hands right before she disappeared for minutes at a time and it felt like her heart was covered in pinpricks and needles after thirty-some days of that constant nauseating stench.

Seeing someone you know become someone you knew.

Heartbreaking.

Constantly seeing that same person you love in pain and there's nothing in your power that you can do to stop their suffering.

_Devastating_.

Because that's what it was, and Asami would be lying if she said otherwise. She had fallen in love with Korra. Somewhere between the car rides and their stay at Zaofu, between Ba Sing Se and the stake out in the Misty Palms Oasis, between their capture and brush with death in the desert, Korra had parked herself into Asami's heart. She had meant it when she told Korra that she would be there for her if she wanted to talk. And she planned on keeping that promise.

* * *

_I would ruin myself to fix you_

_`~.~`_

Like every other night, Korra had asked Asami to leave her be when she decided to get ready for bed. Told her to save herself the trouble. That she would be fine on her own.

Like every other night, Asami's first instinct was to insist that it was no trouble at all, that she would be more than happy to see the Watertribe girl to bed. She missed being able to hold Korra's hand and rub soothing circles with her thumb over it while she talked about everything and nothing to lull the bender to sleep. She missed watching the girl slumber peacefully for a few precious hours, kissing away the creases that formed along her brow before her mind succumbed completely to fear.

And so, it was with great restraint and taut white knuckles that Asami acquiesced.

For the moment.

In the dark hallway of the Air Temple, Asami waited behind a corner until Korra slid the screen door open and shut as she wheeled into her room. She then silently padded towards the screen door and waited, straining her ears to catch the faintest of sounds.

Wooden floorboards creaking.

A grunt and the rustling of sheets.

The sound of…of something sloshing in…in a…metallic container.

The scrape of metal against metal as a cap was screwed open…

Asami immediately slid open the screen door and stepped inside, coming face to face with wide eyes and a mouth agape with surprised shock. The heiress glanced down at the small rectangular flask clutched tightly in a mocha colored hand.

"_Korra…_" It came out as but a weary whisper.

"I-It's—It's water!" she tried vainly, too caught up in protecting her only form of solace and escape to even consider being cross at Asami for entering her room when she had asked her to leave her alone for the night.

The heartbroken sorrow behind those tragically beautiful green eyes was enough to stop the useless sputter of words that tumbled from the Avatar's lips. However, the cautious step towards her immediately sent her hands to grip the flask tightly against her chest as she failed miserably in trying to scramble further back into the bed.

Asami approached her much like how one would approach a wounded animal that was frightened and volatile, ready to lash out at a moment's notice. She took slow, measured steps, her hands raised to hip level with her palms facing the trembling girl before her. She stopped a foot or two away from the bed. It looked as if Korra was trying to squeeze herself into the corner of where the two perpendicular walls met.

"W-Whaduyouwan? Y-you sh-shh-shouldn't be here." It was clear she was border-lining hysteria.

Asami sent her a gentle smile, a tiny quirk of the lips meant to soothe an alarmed soul.

"Hey," she cooed, "I just want to talk, alright?" Korra's eyes were trained on her as she knelt beside the bed.

"Can I sit with you?" After what felt like minutes of scrutiny, Korra gave her the barest of nods, not a hint of malice to be found in the heiress's gaze. The heiress gave her another tender look before climbing onto the bed to sit next to the Avatar using the same slow movements from before.

They sat in silence for a while, Asami's gaze flitting between Korra and the flask she was nursing close to her chest.

"My mom and I used to listen to pro-bending matches over the radio when I was a kid," she began. Korra started at the sound of Asami's voice, breaking the thick silence but not unpleasantly so.

"The best ones were when we would root for opposing teams. If my team won, she would take me out for ice cream. And if we were really up to it, we'd reenact some of the sequences and moves until we ended up a giggling mess and Dad had to pick us up from the floor." A wistful smile graced her features. Korra had calmed down somewhat, no longer shaking and the grip she had on the flask loosened, one hand resting on the mattress as she turned her attention to Asami's reminiscing. She still eyed her warily, not quite sure where this conversation was heading.

"When she died, my dad and I were both pretty shaken up," she said turning somber. "But, you know, he did his best to try to keep me from thinking about it too much, and after a while, I was okay." Korra jumped when she felt Asami's hand intertwine their fingers, but the non-bender didn't seem to notice either action. Yet Korra was pleasantly surprised to find the act relieved the tension in her shoulders before allowing the rest of her body relax.

"And after the whole 'My Dad Is An Equalist' fiasco," she squeezed her hand, "I had Pema, Tenzin and the kids, Mako, Bolin…and you," she finished, bringing her gaze up to meet Korra's mildly bewildered one.

"You were there for me when I needed you most, now let me be there for you…_please,"_ and Korra was too caught up in the pleading greens of her eyes, the quiet desperation of her voice to notice her hand reaching to grab the little container still in her grasp. But when she felt the warm velveteen brush of fingers against her own, long since cooled from the metal in her hand, the alarms in her mind screamed.

_It's a trick! She's trying to take it away! She's trying—It's mine! _

_She wants it for herself! She's out to get me! The-They're out to get me! _

_The voices will come back!_

_Th-The shadows! They'll all come back! I can hear it!_

_I-I see it! It's right there! It's coming for me!_

_I see—I hear them! Spirits, they're—_

Korra jerked away violently, not even so much as wincing when her head banged harshly into the wall behind her. Too far gone was she in her panic-stricken hysteria.

"N-No! You want to take it away from me! I can't go back to that. I c-can't—I don't want to see them anymore. They're screaming, Asami. They're screaming a-and yelling a-and-and— "

Korra inhaled sharply, the metal container knocked to the floor when she found herself wrapped tightly in a pair of pale arms. She tried to fight back, to push the offending enemy off, but every shove and jerk only served to make the restraints tighter. Her eyes grew wide with unadulterated terror, nostrils flaring as she continued to thrash about, desperation controlling her actions. She screamed through clenched teeth as she felt hot tears of frustration and fear and _anger_ because there was no way she would survive this. No way she could get away when her legs were practically immobile save for a desperate twitch or two. The realization that she was going to die knocked the wind out of her and left a cold, metallic, tingling sensation bursting from her chest, spreading through her arms and closing up her throat. It was happening again.

They say that when you're about to die, your body seizes up and your mind fades to black, but that's a lie. Her body refused to stop shaking and her eyes couldn't stop blinking, hoping that when they opened again this will all be forgotten and done with_, but it never is_. This pain never ends and she didn't expect it to any time soon because death isn't pleasant. Death is pain, and pain is unforgiving.

She was _going_ _to_ _die_ and she _couldn't_ _breathe _and—

And…and then there was the scent of jasmine. Sweet and warm and _secure_. Momentarily distracted from her struggle, Korra felt a hand gently running through her hair and another rubbing firm but soothing circles on her back. The look of petrified terror left her eyes as she took shuddering breaths, able to breathe once again. She let her body fall limp and succumbed to the embrace, feebly wrapping her own arms around that wonderfully calming scent of jasmine, clutching at the fabric her hands found purchase in.

Asami held on to the panic-stricken girl tightly, bringing her head to crook of her neck while she buried hers in soft chocolate tresses. Her heart leaped with pure joy when she felt Korra slowly relax against her, glad her ministrations were working. That joy was short-lived, however, when she heard the small whimpers and sniffles against her neck.

She pulled back and placed her hands on Korra's cheeks, frowning when she saw the bender's eyes downcast.

"Hey," she rubbed her thumb against the soft skin, brushing away the oncoming tears, "it's alright. Come on, look at me." When Korra did meet her gaze, Asami was taken aback. The girl who stared back at her was little more than a stranger. The heiress took a moment to gauge in the Watertribe girl's features, _really looked _for the first time in weeks and it broke her heart to do so.

Her bright mocha skin had faded into a sickly grey pallor. Bones were beginning to jut out from areas that were once covered with strong sinew and muscle. And _her eyes_…_Spirits, _her eyes were _so lifeless._ They were bloodshot with dark bags underneath them, their once bright blue now a pale grey. Looking at them, Asami could only find utter defeat and…and _worthlessness_. _Contempt._

Without thinking or even registering her own movements, Asami placed a kiss on Korra's cheek, then one to the other, one to the bridge of her nose, feather-light brushes of her lips saying '_I'm here' _and _'I __**love **__you' _when her tongue could not. She placed one last kiss on Korra's forehead, lingering there with burning eyes closed shut. When she did pull away, it was to rest her own forehead against the Watertribe girl.

"Korra, why are you doing this?" she whispered, afraid to break the low hush that settled over the room.

…

…

"It's better than knowing I'm alive."

And it was true. Having her self-awareness wrapped securely in a drunken stupor meant she didn't have to face such a worthless existence. She was tired. _Spirits, _she was_ so tired_ of hearing how her life was absolutely _pointless_. How do you cope with knowing that you were practically _bred_ since infancy in that compound, isolated for _years_, the sole purpose being that you had to become the Avatar and keep balance in the world, only to have it slap you across the face? How do you cope with believing that your entire identity, your entire being, _who you are_, revolved around a title that seemed too heavy to bear and having it ripped away bit by bit like repeatedly tearing up a freshly stitched scar?

She drank because it meant that the bleeding mask hadn't taken away her bending and her ability to live out her supposed destiny once upon a time.

She drank because it meant that the dark demon she once faced hadn't annihilated the lifetime of connections that were deeply rooted within her soul.

She drank because it meant that she didn't have to go through the trauma of nearly dying while bound in chains, the guilt of knowing that the ancient cycle would die with her.

She drank because it meant that she didn't have to question whether or not the world needed or w_anted_ an Avatar. Question her reason for _existing_. The icing on the cake: having her respected mentor proclaim happily that the Air Nation will maintain the necessary balance and peace while she need only focus on recovery.

Drowning herself in a chokingly bitter sea meant she didn't have to face that fearful truth.

"No. No, don't say that!" She hadn't even realized she had voiced her thoughts aloud until Asami's voice broke through her subconscious. "Don't say that because it's not true!"

"You know it is."

"No, Korra, you're so much more than just the Avatar. You're—"

"_Then who am I?_" came the strained, despairing whisper. Grey-blue orbs stared at her fraught with desolation. Asami blinked.

"You're…you're Korra," she said, as if it was the most obvious statement in the world.

"But _who _is that?"

Something in Asami's demeanor changed, Korra could sense it. The faint warm scent of jasmine was still there, mint green eyes still held her gaze in that comforting way that only Asami was capable of administering. But now, now they seemed to glow with determination and an emotion that Korra couldn't quite place. A muscle jumped in the heiress's jaw.

"The girl I fell in love with."

There was no hesitance, no stutter, not even a wavering of the eyes as Asami said this and it was all Korra could do to keep from gaping in shock.

"You're the impatient, stubborn, carefree and care_less_ girl who knows what's right and just and will do just about anything to protect those she cares about. You're the only person I know who can rival Bolin's love for Narook's noodles and a terrible driver. You're the girl who always seems to bounce back even when all the odds are stacked against her and it seems impossible. You're the pro-bender I love watching from the stands because of all the little hat tricks you seem to have up your sleeve. You're the older sister that the airbending kids have always wanted and you have the greatest heart I've ever known. And I love you."

When she had finished, Asami searched Korra's face, her heart plummeting when she was only met with a blank stare, her previous confidence dissipating. She wasn't expecting a requital of her affections. No, that would be expecting too much. But anything, confusion, anger, excitement, disgust, _anything_ would have been better than the vacant expression on the bender's face. She hated this kind of vulnerability.

Because it was the kind that was exploited. Used. Bared and exposed. Easily crushed.

"Korra…please—say _something…_" she begged. Seconds, beats passed by and the only sounds in the room were the occasional breeze that would blow in through the window and the rustling of sheets being twisted in pale anxious fingers.

"You love me?" Asami almost missed the small utterance.

"So much it hurts."

And the next thing she knew, a pair of lips, chapped but tender all the same, were crushed against her own. The shock of it made her hesitate for an instant, but the constant pressure of the hand behind her neck and fingers threaded through her hair made her body sink into the touch. Asami kissed her slowly, steadily, bringing her hands up to cup Korra's face again. With every brush of her lips, the heiress silently tried to tell her that she was wanted, loved, _needed _because of _who _she was, not _what _she was.

And Korra, for her part, needed this as well. Needed someone other than her impaired mind to tell her that she was more than what was expected of her. Needed someone to reach out and pull her from the self-harming abyss she had lost herself in, even when she fought back simply because she didn't know what lay beyond the darkness. Asami had been that someone and she would be damned if she decided to let this form of rescue slip through her fingers like her liquor had previously done when she was too inebriated to control her motor skills.

Asami was the first to pull back, lips still brushing before she settled for one final kiss and then pulled away completely.

_[It would take time and tireless effort.]_

The heiress settled herself in the bed while pulling the covers over the both of them, already making up her mind that she was not going to leave Korra's side that night, or possibly any night if the bender so wished it. She smiled when Korra did the same and nestled her head under her chin.

_[After all, pulling someone who had grown used to walking along the edge of a cliff—they'll need to grow accustomed to safer, wider ground]_

And just like that time all those weeks ago, she held Korra's hand in hers.

"I want you to know that I'm here for you," she murmured into the Watertribe girl's hair. For the first time since she could remember, the corners of Korra's lips twitched up because, just like that time all those weeks ago, Asami had promised her those same words. Only this time, they held new meaning. This time, Korra was beginning to find new meaning in places she was certain were stoic and bleak and despondent.

This time Korra surrendered herself to soft jasmine instead of hard liquor. To a loving hand wrapped around her back instead of a burning throat. To a protective embrace instead of a false shroud.

"I know."

_[But soon enough, their steps will become firm and sure once again.]_


End file.
